


Socks and Sandals

by scheherazade



Series: Nantoka Daigaku (College AU) [5]
Category: Tenimyu RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9043874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade
Summary: Three times Nagayama-sensei had his students over to his house.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nobetterpicture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterpicture/gifts), [acchikocchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/gifts), [Purple23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple23/gifts).



  
**Freshman Year**  


The guy was looking at him. Sure, he was supposedly chatting with a couple professors and making them laugh with what must be keen and engaging observations — but Ikkei had caught him looking. Staring, really. For the last fifteen minutes.

Given that Ikkei had only arrived about sixteen minutes ago, it was a bit much. Of course, he'd promised himself that college was a new start: no more running, no more hiding, eliding, casual-conversation-changing or otherwise pretending to be anyone he wasn't. He was Yamamoto Ikkei, a proud — and extremely self-aware — gay man and the rest of the world could spend five minutes excusing themselves to _him_ , for once.

In retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have come on so strong right out of the gate. Even odds that he'll never speak to anyone from his freshman orientation group again.

Their loss, Ikkei reminded himself. And anyway, Staring Guy hadn't been at orientation. Ikkei would have remembered him. Not that he was in the habit of remembering attractive people he'd never even talked to.

Anyway, the guy had started it. By staring at him. 

Or maybe he was just wondering why it was taking Ikkei so long to make himself a single cup of tea.

The answer was none of his business, and also, Ikkei didn't believe in either a) burning his tea, or b) making a bad impression by littering in his professor's backyard. Nagayama-sensei had invited all his advisees — and what looked like the entire gender studies department, plus a couple stragglers from polisci — to this cookout, and Ikkei was determined to meet some great people and enjoy a real conversation.

Seriously, his orientation group could suck it.

So could Attractive Staring Guy, and — okay, not going there.

Ikkei fished his teabag out of his cup, disposed of it properly, and turned away from the refreshments table—

"Yamamoto-kun, right?"

—to find himself face-to-face with Staring Guy. Who'd somehow teleported across the yard, and was now standing ever-so-slightly too close.

"Yes." Ikkei steadied the cup in his hand, because it wouldn't do to spill hot organic tea all over one of his professor's guests. "And you must be...?"

"We haven't been introduced." The guy gave him a smile that, much like his entire presence, was just slightly too intimate. "Yata Yusuke. Charmed."

"Um. Likewise." Ikkei told himself to get a grip. "Sorry, but — you said we haven't met. How do you know me?"

"Your reputation precedes you," said Yata, which was probably a good thing. Maybe. Ikkei took a sip of tea to force himself to wait for the rest of it, right as Yata said, "Nagayama-sensei has been going on and on about you. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was trying to set us up."

Ikkei choked on blisteringly hot tea. 

Yata gave him that smile again. And walked away before Ikkei could recover from his coughing.

"Yamamoto-kun!" said a familiar voice from behind him. "There you are. I see you've met Yata-chan."

Ikkei turned to see Nagayama-sensei, who was grinning fit to burst. "Er. Yes." He kicked himself for being so consummately ineloquent in front of his professor. "Though he left before we could really...talk."

"He's a bit of a character. You'll get used to it."

Ikkei very much doubted that. "I look forward to it," he said out of courtesy. And out of curiosity, "Yata-san must be one of your thesis students?"

"Yata? Oh, god no." Nagayama laughed. He glanced across the yard. "Yata is friends with Mokkun — Ota Motohiro, that is. Mokkun is going to be one of my thesis students. Yata's his friend, and used to tag along to the upper level seminars. Possibly while skipping most of his actual classes. I didn't ask."

Ikkei followed his professor's line of sight and saw Yata talking with another guy, whom Ikkei is pretty sure he saw last week wandering around the quad barefoot reading _Crush_.

"I'm glad Yata ended up coming here for college," Nagayama continued. "Though now he says he's already learned all he can from me, and he's ready to branch out. I know, right? But I have four years to change his mind, so—"

"He's a _freshman_?" Ikkei blurted, unable to help himself.

"Yes. I was hoping to introduce you two. I remember you said you wanted to revive the Rainbow Alliance — I think you and Yata would do a fantastic job together. I've been talking to him about it, and he seems interested."

"I," said Ikkei, because apparently ineloquence was an affliction. He took a gulp of tea; maybe that burning would cancel out the heat on his face. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will," said Nagayama-sensei, smiling, and now the burning feeling in Ikkei's chest definitely wasn't tea. Ridiculous, that his professor's approval could mean so much to him when he'd only known the guy, what? Two weeks? But already here he was, enrolled in two of Nagayama-sensei's classes this semester and planning to do the same for the rest of his college career. And here they were, at Nagayama-sensei's house, surrounded by friends and colleagues like something out of Ikkei's wildest childhood dream of what life could be — and Nagayama-sensei was saying, gesturing toward a man wearing socks and sandals and an expression of such welcome that Ikkei could have guessed who he was, even before his professor said,

"I don't think you've met Yuichi, my partner. Oy, Tuti! Are you gonna fire up the grill, or are my guests gonna have to eat their own words for dinner?"

"Listen to my man cracking the whip," came the chortling remark.

"You signed up for this," Nagayama reminded him, and got a huge smile in reply. Nagayama nodded for Ikkei to come along. "Come say hi."

Ikkei went, mortification forgotten for the moment at the sheer wonder of it all. College, he decided there and then, wasn't just going to be a new start: it was going to be _amazing_.

 

* * *

 

  
**Sophomore Year**  


Ikkei scowled at him. "It isn't funny."

"I beg to differ, but..." Yata couldn't control the snickers for more than a couple words at a time. He managed, after a moment, "It kind of is."

"Not _that_ funny."

"Again, I beg to differ."

"I hate you."

"Really?" Yata knew he was still grinning and didn't really care if Ikkei's scowl deepened at the sight. "Because, from the sounds of it, you were _really into me_ when we met here this time last year. Tell me how much I suck again?"

"I hate you and your living guts and I'm never opening up to you ever again," said Ikkei, with all the righteous indignation of a maiden scorned. "Friendship over."

"That's a shame." Yata looked around at the people gathered in Nagayama-sensei's backyard. "But, you know, I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult finding another strapping young man to swoon over—"

"I _would never_ —"

"Hey, isn't that Kuroba-kun?"

Ikkei whipped around so fast Yata was almost tempted to start laughing again. But that would ruin the way Ikkei caught himself, turned stiffly to survey the gathering with a highly-improbable lack of interest, and turned back to say, 

" _That_ ," with seething primness, "is _Shohei_. And despite the startling similarities between ninety-nine percent of varsity athletes, I think it rather beneath us as human beings to make such crude stereotypes based solely on the fact that he happens to be wearing the team jacket—"

"I know what Shohei looks like." Yata nodded toward the far side of the yard again. "And the guy who just walked in definitely isn't him."

"I'm not falling for this again," said Ikkei. "What's more, I refuse to be mocked any longer for what is — in your own damn words — a harmless little crush. Which I am over. In the same way I am over the unfortunate circumstances of _our_ initial acquaintance. And you know what?" Ikkei was really warming to the subject now. "Mario-kun happens to be a very nice person. I am not ashamed to be friends with him. He and the entire baseball team are a credit to varsity athletics, which you would know if you actually talked to any of them instead of ruminating on your past glories in the soccer arena."

Yata could feel his eyebrows melding into his hairline. "I seem to remember you telling me, repeatedly, that there's nothing redemptive about sports."

"Yes, well. I have since expanded my worldview."

"Which now includes baseball."

"My worldview includes many things."

"Just not Kuroba-kun. Too bad. He's a decent view."

"What does that have to do with—"

"Ikkei-san?" said Kuroba, and Yata had the pleasure of watching Ikkei perform a near-perfect pirouette in his haste to face their new conversation partner.

"Mario-kun! Hi. Uh." Could it be that Ikkei was _blushing?_ Fascinating. "I didn't know you would be here."

"Oh, yeah, well." Kuroba grinned in a manner that, in Yata's professional opinion, could only be technically described as _dork_. "Practice ended early. I wasn't gonna come, but Shohei said you'd — uh, he said, _you'd definitely know some people._ So. Here I am."

Kuroba gave Ikkei a hesitant smile. 

And Ikkei smiled back.

Yata took the opportunity to remove himself from the conversation. Not that they would've noticed a rhinoceros walking past just then, so busy were they staring into each others' eyes like some tasteless scene out of any one of the millions of artless movies that purported to speak of love. And if you'd told Yata Yusuke, one year ago, that his friend and co-chair of the Rainbow Alliance would be falling for a varsity bro who didn't know the difference between Foo Fighters and Foucault — well.

Moments like this made Yata regret forcing Ikkei to interview Kuroba for his radio show last year. If Yata had known he was inadvertently igniting a romcom cliche, he would have taken the show off air himself.

There's no accounting for taste, he supposed. This Kuroba business aside, Ikkei was a good guy, and — hilarious as it was to think about now — Yata was almost thankful for the overbearing mothering instinct that had led Nagayama-sensei to introduce the two of them.

He'd never admit it, but college probably wouldn't be as much fun without Ikkei around.

Frankly, most people just weren't worth talking to. 

Exhibit A: the gaggle of dewy-eyed gender studies majors — plus one Kuroba Mario — gathered in the backyard. Yata ducked inside the house instead. Nagayama-sensei wouldn't mind; it would hardly be the first time Yata had invited himself over, and their hosts had a surprisingly decent film theory collection among the other useless tomes in the study.

Maybe he could read a couple books until he was obligated to show his face again. Or get food. Whichever happened first.

He'd already opened the study door before he realized there were voices coming from inside.

"—might find this more useful than anything I can come up with. Really, though, you should talk to Nagayan. Or actually, talk to Tuti. It's more his area."

"You sure he won't mind? Me borrowing these books?"

"Pfft. They just like their house to look nice. I bet Nagayan hasn't even touched most of these since grad school— Oh, hey, Yata-kun."

Yata inclined his head to Moriyama-sensei, who was — from the looks of it — pilfering Nagayama-sensei's library.

With an assist from one Tawada Hideya.

Who was now giving him a shy smile. "Hey, Yata-chan."

"Are you looking for Nagayan?" Moriyama asked.

Yata shrugged. "Just came inside for a bit. I've been meaning to borrow a book. Though," he added, glancing at Hideya, "you may have beat me to it."

Hideya flushed, which — cute. If you're into that kind of thing. 

Moriyama laughed and added one last book to the small pile already in Hideya's arms. "That'll do you for now, kid." To Yata, he said, "Well, don't let me stop you. Hey, do you know if they've fired up the grill yet?"

"It's possible."

"Meaning they've been too busy chatting to start cooking." Moriyama and Yata shared a knowing grin, because yeah: Nagayama-sensei and Tsuchiya-san were the kind of hosts who kept conversation flowing — sometimes at the expense of other things. 

"Guess I'll go make sure we have food for later." Moriyama waved to Hideya, "Like I said, don't start with Lacan unless you want a headache!"

The door closed behind him. Yata could practically hear Hideya's fidgeting.

"Maybe I should go help—"

"What are you borrowing?" Yata asked.

Hideya looked startled. "Oh. Um." He looked from Yata down to the books in his arms and back up. Then back down again. "I'm taking a film theory class this semester, but I'm not really — I'm a little in over my head, I guess. I asked Moriyama-sensei if he could recommend some basic stuff. Just to, you know, cover my bases."

Yata wandered over and glanced at the books he was holding. "Lacan, Bergson, and...is that _Joseph Campbell_?"

"I didn't know where to start," Hideya says sheepishly.

"Neither does Morieiji-sensei, apparently. Forget covering your bases; that's a swing and a miss. No offense."

Hideya was smiling for some reason. "None taken."

Yata went to the bookshelf and skimmed the titles. "Film 205, right? Looking Past the Post-Modern Gaze?"

"Yes." Hideya sounded startled. "Wait, how did you know?"

"That's the only film theory class Nagayama-sensei offers." Yata snatched _The Hero's Journey_ from Hideya's arms and replaced it on the shelf. In an unobtrusive spot, because seriously. "Well, there's also Queering the Subject — but that's technically a gender studies course."

"You've taken a lot of Nagayama-sensei's classes."

"Not one." Yata found a couple volumes of Zizek and Deleuze and, after a moment's consideration, added Mulvey to the pile as well. When he looked up, Hideya was staring at him. "What?"

Hideya blinked. "Uh, nothing." He looked down at the books Yata had just handed him. "These don't look very — introductory."

"You can thank me later." 

"When I fail out of the class because I was reading..." Hideya turned his head to an improbable angle to read the spine of one of the books. "... _Visual and Other Pleasures_? Um. What's this one about?"

"Read it and find out." Yata helped himself to one of the armchairs. There was a copy of _Being and Nothingness_ lying on the end table. He picked it up — and noticed Hideya was still hovering by the shelf. "You don't have to read it standing up."

Hideya sat gingerly, careful with the books. Yata flipped to a dog-eared page and started reading. After a moment, he heard Hideya open a book as well.

A couple minutes passed.

"What are you reading?" Hideya asked eventually.

Yata showed him the cover. "'Hell is other people'."

"What?"

"Sartre."

"Oh," said Hideya, which could have meant anything from recognition to acknowledgement of the fact that Yata was, indeed, serious about reading. Because that's why he'd come inside in the first place. He hadn't intended on sharing his reading time with someone else, but Hideya was quiet enough that it didn't matter.

In a way, it was almost nice.

 _Of course Hideyan is nice,_ Yata could just imagine Ikkei saying in that indignant voice of his, leaping to his roommate's defense. As if Yata were someone that Hideya needed defending against. Yata was many things, but a bad friend was not one of them. And true, he didn't have a lot of character witnesses on that count — mostly because Mokkun would be just as likely go on a fifteen-minute monologue on friendship as he would be to actually attest to what a good person his friend was — but Yata would like to believe that he had better self-control than Ikkei gave him credit for.

Anyway, he doubted Hideya would even know how to react to someone putting the moves on him.

When he glanced over, half an hour later, Hideya was still reading Zizek with much more concentration than the pompous self-styled philosopher-critic deserved.

"Want to go get some food?" Yata asked.

Hideya jumped. Amazing, that he'd actually been so focused on a book that, not forty minutes ago, he'd thought he wouldn't even be able to understand. Tawada Hideya tended to underestimate himself, Yata thought. 

Hideya glanced at the clock. "Yes, please. I'm starving." He put down his book — then hesitated. "Do you think it's okay if I leave these here for now? I don't know if sensei..."

"Leave them." Yata stretched and headed for the door. "We can come back later."

"Ah. Okay." Hideya followed him outside.

Yata didn't turn around to look, but it sounded like he was smiling.

 

* * *

 

  
**Senior Year**  


The backyard was quiet with twilight, the long table and extra folding chairs the only signs left of an afternoon passed among friends and colleagues and students old and new.

Takashi opened the door; light spilled out across the patio, yellow and warm. It was enough to see by as he cleaned up the last of the odds and ends. 

Here, on a table, two plastic cups. One clearly labeled _Yamamoto Ikkei_ ; the other, still half full. It was a wonder Mario-kun didn't waste away, when he paid no attention to what he was eating or drinking anytime Ikkei was around. Then again, Ikkei would be around often enough to look after him, he supposed.

Takashi smiled to himself and put the cups in the trash.

Here, on a folding chair, a dog-eared copy of _The Argonauts_. Inside the cover would be a small but clear inscription: _PROPERTY OF TAWADA HIDEYA._ He and Yata would've sat here, hours earlier, talking of this and other things that had caught Yata's interest over the summer, and of which Hideya would want to know every detail.

Takashi would return the book to him in class on Monday.

Here, on the table, a pair of reading glasses that Morieiji still insisted he didn't need, the stubborn bastard. And there, underneath the table, a single flip-flop. Takashi wondered if Mokkun was missing footwear. And if he'd noticed.

He heard the click of the light switch, and now the patio was lit by the soft glow of fairy lights that they put up one Christmas and never got around to taking down.

It looked nice, Takashi thought; Yuichi walking toward him in the fairytale dark.

"I thought we were cleaning this up tomorrow," Yuichi said.

Takashi tied up the trashbag he was carrying. He handed the book to Yuichi. "Found this. It's supposed to rain later."

"Property of Tawada Hideya," Yuichi read aloud. "Is he the one who idolizes you?"

"They all idolize me. And Hideya is Eiji's thesis student."

"Oh, the tall one with the lovely voice?" At Takashi's perplexed expression, Yuichi added, "They saw the guitar in the living room and made me play something. Tawada-kun knows his Broadway classics."

"How many songs did you go through?"

"Just the cheesy ones," said Yuichi, grinning, because he would. "You were out here talking to Ikkei-chan. Seemed like a pretty intense discussion, or I would've made you come sing harmony."

"Try not to sabotage my credibility in front of my students."

"I would never." Yuichi took the trashbag from his hands and set it aside. "I would only ever support you and love you and embarrass the hell out of you in front of your well-dressed friends by grilling in socks and sandals."

"I'm never having my students over again."

"You say that, but I'm half the reason they love you."

"How dare you," said Takashi in his best affronted voice, even as he let Yuichi draw him closer.

"Why, professor." Yuichi was smiling, soft as the fairy lights haloing his slowly but surely receding hairline, warm and familiar with the weight of years. "It's like you always say: representation matters."

"How very dare you," Takashi murmured — and kissed him — knowing that his own smile was a perfect match for the happiness curving Yuichi's lips.


End file.
